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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27045124">October Ficlets</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyitsya/pseuds/kyitsya'>kyitsya</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anakin Skywalker Needs a Hug, Angst, Force Exhaustion (Star Wars), Gen, Goretober, Hurt Ahsoka Tano, Hurt Anakin Skywalker, Hurt Obi-Wan Kenobi, Minor Original Character(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Planet Mortis (Star Wars), Poison, Possession, The rest is all canon, There’s like only one prompt where I wrote about my oc, These are just small ficlets based on my inktober and goretober drawings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 19:20:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,450</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27045124</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyitsya/pseuds/kyitsya</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>This is just a collection of ficlets which I wrote based on my inktober and goretober drawings. Most of them are angsty, so if you want some lineage whump, this is for you.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>53</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Failure of the Master (Goretober - Impaled)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Day 3 of Goretober - Impaled</p><p>The Mortis Arc is a great source for angst, so I decided to write a small fic about it based on the art that I did for this prompt. The art can be found on my tumbr/insta @kyitsya :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>“He said if you don’t join him, he will kill me.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I won’t let him.”</em><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
<br/>
Displeasure flashing across his face, the Son snarled at Anakin’s disobedience.<br/>
<br/>
“I gave you fair warning, Chosen One. I offered you everything and yet you remain unconvinced. Maybe the loss of your pet will sway you...”<br/>
<br/>
Red eyes turned to face the possessed padawan. The weapon in her grip shifted.<br/>
<br/>
“Ahsoka, NO—“<br/>
<br/>
A terrible cry left the two masters as the blade pierced Ahsoka’s middle in one, swift motion. Maddened pain painted Ahsoka’s face. She stumbled, her fingers weakening their hold on the hilt. Tears pooled in the corners of her eyes. Anakin and Obi-Wan rushed towards her.<br/>
<br/>
Her shaky eyes locked onto Anakin’s, her frame trembling.<br/>
<br/>
“H-He warned you...Skyguy.”<br/>
<br/>
Unsteady feet lost their hold on the cold ground. She collapsed right into Anakin’s chest, desperate arms wrapping around her delicately. Beside them, Obi-Wan kneeled, shielding the scene from the red, burning orbs that glittered with glee.<br/>
<br/>
Dark shadows fell upon the older Jedi’s face as he gazed at the sharp end of the blade, slick with blood, jutting out of her back. A terrible heaviness settled upon his soul.<br/>
<br/>
“Ahsoka, it’s alright, just stay with me—Snips, look at me!” He turned to look at Obi-Wan and the Daughter with a wild, panicked gaze, “Obi-Wan! Anybody, do something!”<br/>
<br/>
The Hero with No Fear’s voice cracked as he pleaded. No one moved to help. His former master gave him a look of pain at his request, mournfulness wracking his aura. They could not, no matter how much they wanted to. In his embrace, Ahsoka’s fading flame sputtered.<br/>
<br/>
“I’m sorry...” His padawan murmured with a small, choked sound. Her eyes slid shut. She did not take a breath afterwards.<br/>
<br/>
An agonized howl tore itself out of his burning lungs. Lost in his sorrow, Anakin held Ahsoka and wept while Obi-Wan drifted beside him, weeping on the inside.<br/>
<br/>
The sunrise couldn’t come any faster.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Sacrifice (Inktober - Mortis)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Day 14 of Inktober - Mortis</p><p>I'm just going to explain what the art for this prompt looks like so that this makes more sense. Basically, Obi-Wan stands front and center, and two unfurled, wings sit upon his back. His eyes are glowing and white lines are crawling up the sides of his face. Behind him, the Daughter floats, her arms outstretched.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Obi-Wan burned.<br/>
<br/>
Thrumming under his skin and washing his veins, the Light nestled within him, overwhelming and empowering at the same time. Coolness emanated off of him, his unfurled wings casting a cold glow across the Dark of Mortis’ night, while his insides were scorched.<br/>
<br/>
He had always been in close contact with the Light. It bathed him and shone upon him every waking hour... But this... this was uncontaminated power. The scales had tipped to one side, balance ceasing to exist. It was Light without the slightest hint of Dark.<br/>
<br/>
And it was <em>burning</em> him.<br/>
<br/>
“Your body will not be able to handle it...” The Daughter had murmured to him, warning in her ethereal eyes.<br/>
<br/>
Obi-Wan had been well aware of that when he made the choice. He knew that his power in the Force did not compare to Anakin’s. No doubt there would be repercussions...<br/>
<br/>
But Anakin was lost—had fallen to the Son’s lies and trickery—and Ahsoka was wounded.<br/>
<br/>
Obi-Wan would take on anything—even at the price of himself—for his lineage, and the Daughter had known that from the second she had spoken.<br/>
<br/>
“There is no other option.”<br/>
<br/>
“Very well.”<br/>
<br/>
Standing before his former padawan, Obi-Wan felt the urge to keel over and scream. Perhaps the screams would relieve the searing touch of the Light—maybe offer just the slightest of comfort. The pureness felt like a sickness and, for the first time, Obi-Wan wished to be rid of the Force.<br/>
<br/>
But when those golden eyes, ablaze with hatred, landed upon him, the agony melted away and resolve set in. The fate of the Force and the galaxy on his shoulders, Obi-Wan stood his ground.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Fatal Mistake (Goretober - Hanging)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I made a small comic based on a hanging prompt for my oc, so then I thought, “Why not write a small fic as well?” So here we are. </p><p>TW for blood and graphic hanging.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They had caught her off guard. Drained by the constant vigilance, she had allowed herself to relax while Master Carphira was away. A stupid mistake. A fatal one.</p><p>Desperate fingers scrabbled at the scratchy material around her neck, her nails indenting into the skin, trying to dig underneath the rope but only leaving behind more marks and wounds. The ragged soil dug into her attire and skin as she was dragged, though that slicing feeling paled in comparison to the burning pressure against her throat.</p><p>Her lightsaber. She just needed her lightsaber.</p><p>"Looking for this?" The Inquisitor purred cheekily as she dangled the weapon from her fingertips. With a wild desperation, Selah swiped at it with a bloodied hand, but a sharp tug sent her flying backwards, rivulets of crimson seeping down her neck. An animal caught in a net.</p><p>An attempt to rip the lightsaber out of the Inquisitor's hand through the Force simply failed, the lack of oxygen ridding her of any focus.</p><p>She was losing the fight. Tears sprung to her eyes.</p><p>Air. She needed air.</p><p>A choked sound escaped her as she was hoisted up and then the ground was no longer under her feet.</p><p>The vacuum of space settled into her lungs.</p><p>Full blown terror. Agony exploded throughout her, mingling with the darkness of incoming unconsciousness. Gravity tugged at her body with a cruel tenacity, the rope cutting and cutting and cutting.</p><p>
  <em>Master...</em>
</p><p>She knew it was un-Jedi like to cry for help. She did-or tried to-anyways. Her master's teachings sprang into her mind.</p><p>
  <em>Thereisnodeaththereistheforce</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Thereisnodeaththereistheforce</em>
</p><p>Hysteria. She recited it faster in her head, her vision darkening.</p><p>
  <em>Thereisnodeaththereistheforce—</em>
</p><p>
  <em>There is DEATH</em>
</p><p>She was SCARED and she was DYING.</p><p>Below her, the dark-clad Inquisitors watched as she jerked and kicked, unsympathetic to her suffering. They departed when the body had gone still and an absence filled the Force.</p><p>A few hours later, a ship would touch down, carrying a weary master, back from an off world errand.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Hold On (Goretober - Poison)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I know it ain't October anymore, but I wrote this for the October prompts so it's joining the October ficlets, damnit.</p><p>I've had this scenario stuck in my head for so long that I think I would've gone insane if I never typed it out. So here's some Anakin + poison + force exhaustion whump.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He had just barely missed it. With a deafening slam, the metal doors filled his vision, separating him from Ahsoka, Obi-Wan and the rest of the crew. Cutting through wasn’t an option, the gas had to be contained. A staccato of bangs from the other side—the work of a panicked fist.</p><p>"Master!"</p><p>Standing against the doors, Anakin eyed the orange gas that seeped towards him. Tendrils of smoke promising a slow death.</p><p>"Go, I'll be alright!"</p><p>"It'll be a long wait, are you sure?" Concern painted Obi-Wan’s side of the bond.</p><p>Resting his forehead on the cool metal before him, Anakin let out a long breath.</p><p>"The mission comes first, I'll be fine."</p><p>Any argument from Ahsoka and the troops was quenched by the time sensitive mission. They left him with words of encouragement. “Hang on, we’ll be back soon.”</p><p>That had been ages ago.</p><p>Tremors running up his arms, his fingers tingling, and his blood scalding hot, Anakin knew that he couldn’t keep this up forever.</p><p>His Force shield shrank as each treacherous hour passed. His reserves were running thin, his mind occasionally slackening its hold on the Force, igniting a sharp stab of panic within, and torturing his weary mind. The Force once cooled his veins… Now it boiled, the overuse tainting it. Any longer and his own method of defense would end up poisoning him.</p><p>
  <em>Hold on.</em>
</p><p>Anakin found himself wishing that they’d finish up with the Separatists soon.</p><p>His lungs shuddered with every breath, though he supposed this was better than the orange wall of death that lingered a foot away. Silence scraped at his ears, only broken by the occasional drop of sweat hitting the floor.</p><p>Plop. Plopplop.</p><p>That didn't sound right. It was much too quick for the single drop of sweat. He looked down. Red, splattered across the floor and his boots, met his eyes. Ah, so that’s what that wetness running down his lips was. Not good.</p><p>His vision swam. One knee hit the floor, followed by the other. His fingers curled, straining painfully to keep his grip. Crisp cracks pierced the air.</p><p>
  <em>Holdonholdonholdon</em>
</p><p>He had practiced this technique for years—but he had never used the Force for such a long duration. Anakin took shaky breaths, trying to steady himself as shudders wracked his form. The sharp tang of iron hit his tongue. His concentration gave out just as he collapsed onto all fours. </p><p>Orange billowed around him. Anakin wheezed a choked sound, claws ripping into the ground. Fresh volcanic ash settled into his lungs. He gasped, but every breath only stoked the scorching feeling. His eyes blurred with tears of pain. A silent apology trickled in the depths of his mind to his loved ones. His ears rang—a sizzling sound burned into his head.</p><p>A sudden light pierced the dark of orange. </p><p>Hope flourishing within his pain-stricken mind, Anakin tossed his head up to see two masked figures reaching for him. Palms settled upon him, fingers hooking at him. His consciousness left him just as he was lifted.</p>
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